Ivory Tiles
by Insanity Studios Ink
Summary: There comes a time in all of our lives when our troubles become to much. It doesn't matter what those troubles are, only how we deal with them. For Hiccup, his outlet for his pain was special to him. His mother's piano.


_AN: All right, you lot. Listen up! It is rather important for you to read this, or you won't understand a thing. Anything in italics, besides author notes at the beginning and end, are memories and/or dreams. Toward the end, it switches back and forth a bit. It's a wee bit confusing, sorry. More explaining at the bottom._

The piano had been his mother's. It wasn't anything special, like the baby grand the church had, or the antique Steinway that collected dust in a forgotten corner at the Jorgensons. It was just an old Yamaha, picked up from a garage sale and wrestled through the patio door.

Valka had played for the church, and was considered by many to be the best around. Hiccup remembered the sound of the piano from his younger days. His mother would sit at the bench with little Hiccup on her lap, her fingers dancing over the keys. Stoic would laugh, singing along with his wife. Of course, this was all before she had gotten sick.

She had died of cancer, and the remaining two were devastated. In his grief, Stoic turned to the false comfort of the drink. No longer did the sound of the ivory tiles float through the house, bringing the love and happiness it once did.

Once, five-year-old Hiccup had sat down at the wooden bench, pudgy fingers trying to replicate the swaying music his mother so easily played. Stoic had been roused from a drunken stupor at the racket. Seeing the piano only brought back painful memories, which the alcohol was not able to banish. He had yelled for a full ten minutes, the small child cowering in fear. Hiccup did not try to play it again.

It was Hiccup's seventh-grade year before the piano received attention again. Hiccup had been wallowing in the painful memories of his mother, and had, as if by instinct, lifted the lid and ran his fingers along the ivory tiles. It was terribly out of tune, but after much you-tubing and googling, he was able to tune it himself. Playing the piano brought him joy, and helped him to cope with the pain.

Because he only could play when his father was not home, his progress was rather slow. It took him almost two years before he could play with skill that would rival that of his late mother. He had played every song in the hymnal borrowed from the church at least once, and most of them several times. A folder of sheet music from various composers was hidden in the piano.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third had suffered from his mother's death. Nothing can ever quite replace a mother's love. Add in that his father barely acknowledged him, and it didn't make for a decent home life. He had always felt pain, but had found an outlet: music.

Stoic, however, still suffered. Even after various alcohol-related incidents, he still drank heavily. As he slept it off, his dreams were haunted by his sick and dying wife. And even if he would not admit it, the alcohol never really dulled the pain enough; pain that was increased each time he saw Valka's face reflected in his son's.

One night in November, as the weather started turning colder, everything was flipped on its head. Stoic was asleep, once again tortured by the memories of his wife.

 _They were in a field, just the three of them, Valka was teaching Hiccup how to whistle with a blade of grass. She laughed as he pouted, showing him again._ _Suddenly, the sky got dark. His wife fell to the ground, and as hard as he tried, Stoic couldn't move, nor could he speak. His body was frozen, even as his mind pounded on the prison around it._ _"Stoic..." she called to him, her voice weak. "Stoic, I'm not feeling well at all."_ _She was wasting away before his eyes, her skin becoming yellowed and sunken. Her hair started to fall out, and her fingers became thin and feeble._ _"Stoic, help me!" she cried. "Help me, please!"_ _He tried as hard as he could, fighting against his body. Tears flooded down his face._ _She collapsed, her breath rattling and frail. And then, she breathed no more. Her face was frozen in an expression of pain and betrayal, her clouded eyes still begging him. Thunderclaps rent the air, rain soaking them in a sudden downpour._ _He realized he was no longer trapped in his body, and rushed to her side._ _"Valka! Valka, love!"_ _He scooped her into his arms, tears falling as free as the rain that was pouring down around them._ _"Valka, please don't leave me!" he pleaded._ _His wife had passed on._ _"NOOOO!!!!"_

He woke up with a gasp, sweating and shaking. He grabbed a beer from the bedside table and downed it, trying to drown the pain. It wasn't enough. He drank another can, and another. He could feel the alcohol kicking in, blurring his senses and making him sleepy again. As he slowly drifted off, he heard a sound he hadn't heard in years.

 _Fingers danced across ivory tiles as they sat together on the bench. He was playing the base part, which was easy enough for him to do. Valka played the treble, laughing as he gaped at the speed of her hands. She had stopped playing only the written notes long ago, adding in a chord or improvising a melody here and there._

Through the dark and silent house, the piano played, notes sighing softly in the night. He recognized it instantly; it was Amazing Grace, one of Valka's favorites.

 _The baby grand thrummed as she played, her voice blending with the choir and yet different enough that Stoic could hear it clearly. She caught his eye and smiled, adding a chord to the music._

A new voice joined in: soft, masculine, and full of emotion.

 _They were all crowded around the old upright. Valka played while he and Hiccup, the boy now in High School, sang along. The boy's voice cracked, and his mom laughed gently, before playing it all again. Stoic smiled, gazing upon what could have been._

The piano took up a more lively tune, each note bouncing and singing with joy.

 _Valka sat behind the large church organ, playing the song that heralded joy and love. Hiccup stood at the alter while a beautiful young woman glided down the isle, shining with excitement. The proud mom sniffed, dabbing her eyes whilst playing the third stanza again._

Slow but happy, the last song echoed through the house like the tolling of a church bell.

 _The woman, now with long white hair and wrinkles that creased when she smiled, sat at the Yamaha. A wizened old man, merely a shadow of who he used to be, hummed along with her. Her arthritic fingers no longer danced across the keys like they used to, but they still brought love and joy to the home. They brought the happyness that made them what they were: a family._

For the first time in ten years, Stoic slept peacefully, imagining what had been and what might have been.

Hiccup finished playing, closing the lid and hiding the music. He smiled as he heard the sleeping form of his father mumbling softly in his sleep. He had given his father some of the happiness that he got from playing the old piano, and that was enough for him. He would play for his father every night for the rest of his life if it returned his father to the happy man he once had been.

Long after the piano had stopped playing, Stoic's dreams were still filled with the sounds of the ivory tiles. When he awoke the next morning, he was well-rested and had a sense of peace that he hadn't had since his wife had been well. As he lay in his bed, the crushing grief no longer seemed to have a hold on him. He had no urge to drown his sorrows in a flagon of mead. The sound of Valka's piano still echoed in his mind, leaving a feeling of warmth that he could only describe as happiness, and as peace.

He sat himself down at the bench, staring at the dark-stained wood. There was no dust hiding the luster of the polish. There was no dust-bunnies under the pedals. He opened the lid, playing a chord. It was in tune.

Being married to a pianist for twenty years had left him with a little knowledge of music. He could play a few songs, at the very least. He placed his hand on the G, clumsy fingers playing the opening stanza.

His deep baritone rang through the house. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound..."

"Dad?"

Hiccup had been woken by the sounds of his father's playing.

"Hiccup. Son, can you play me a melody?"

The boy paused. "Uh...sure."

He retrieved his music from the belly of the piano, looking fearfully at his dad. When nothing happened, he sat down at the wooden bench, and nervously started to play.

As he continued, the music swelled around him, enveloping him, floating him away and taking him to a different world. He forgot about his mother's death, of his father's drinking, of all of his troubles. It was just him, and the notes swirling through the air. His fingers danced, bringing the piano to life. The melody sang, and the counter-melody answered. His music was alive, talking to him; soothing him; comforting him.

He finished, looked to his dad worriedly. Would he be yelled at? Would his dad get rid of the piano? He never should have played, and now it was too late!

Tears were dripping down Stoic's face. He smiled at his son, his face shining with pride.

"Son, I..."Stoic sniffed, wiping at his eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too Dad."

Stoic gave him a watery smile.

That was the day when Stoic and Hiccup's fractured relationship healed itself. Father and son were once again a family, and never was there one that had recovered from more.

You see, that was the day that the two discovered that music is not just noise. It's not just sound that is pleasant to the ears. Music heals, and music brings joy. Music dulls the ache of pain, and through music, dreams become reality.

You see, music is purely magic.

 _AN: I hope that wasn't too confusing! In case it was, I'll explain._ _Hiccup is playing several different pieces, each of which evoke a different memory/dream which Stoic dreams of. Hopefully this clears things up a bit!_ _In all actuality, this is a headcanon of mine. I've always believed that Hiccup would play the piano if he grew up in the modern world, just like I've always believed he is ticklish (An idea to explore later, I suppose). What particular headcanons do you have?_

 _Anywho, you may have noticed that there is no Astrid/Hiccup. This whole oneshot focused entirely around Hiccup and Stoic's poor relationship. Actually, the first HTTYD movie had nothing to do with romance in the plans. The main plot was the tension between Hiccup and his father._ _I_ _was thinking of doing another one just on Hiccup/Astrid, because (if you ask me) there's not enough piano!Hiccup AUs out there._ _On a final note, my mom is going into surgery now. I hate to ask things of people, but if you are a religous person, could you please pray for her, and us? Thank you guys, you lot are the best. I don't deserve you guys. *cries*_

 _~Best Wishes, Joan McCreedy_


End file.
